Off the Pill
by IbtiWiptyWoo
Summary: Mustang wakes up in a strange room and is greeted by an ex-State Alchemist he used to know... Royai, if you look that way and squint. Possibly one-shot. Includes OC.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, nor any of its characters. I only own the horribly sick plot and the terribly written Dr. Minerva Craig, AKA the Medic Alchemists****.**

Off the Pill

Roy Mustang woke up to a low rumble. He did not open his eyes, his mind lingering over the fine line between sleep and consciousness. But the rumbling did not cease.

_What _is _that noise?_ he wondered, suddenly irritated. Was it thunder? That meant rain today. How he hated the rain... And one particular subordinate of his would surely mock him, remind him he was useless in the rain. He would have rolled his eyes if they weren't closed. Lieutenant Hawkeye had..._such_ a character.

But no, he soon realized. It wasn't thunder, or rain. It was laughter. No…not even that. It was a low, frightening chuckle, dark, with no humor. He recognized that type of laugh. When he did, his eyes snapped open.

But the Flame Alchemist immediately regretted it, for his still-tender eyes were met by blaring bright lights. He was not in his bed, or in his office, or anywhere he recognized – he was in a brightly-lit room, completely white; a disgustingly bright shade of it, too, so spotless and perfect it hurt his eyes just thinking of it. There were no windows, one door. No furniture, except for the metal chair in which he was seated. The laughter came from behind him.

The alchemist attempted to stand, but found he was strapped to the chair. His wrists, ankles, upper arms and even his neck were held tightly in place by thick leather-like ropes, digging into his skin.

"What the—?" he started, a little louder than he meant.

The laughter stopped. He could hear someone walking towards him, in heels – each step made a firm_ clank_.

"So, Mustang, you finally decided to wake up," a voice said. It was rich and soft and smooth as silk, and reminded him of Lust…but he knew that was impossible. "It certainly took you long enough."

Roy whipped his head to the left, but regretted doing so – his head and neck had been secured by a metal brace that collided painfully with his temple. He cursed.

"Who are you? What do you—" Roy stopped in the middle of his question, for the figure was laughing again. She laughed for quite some time, low and dark just as before. It finally died down and she took a few more steps in his direction. She now stood before him, and Roy gasped: he knew this woman. No, he knew this...this _monster_.

He stared at the figure before him with a look of disgust. She was a tall woman with a bob of pure white hair; serpent-like eyes that bore into his; blood-red lips twisted into an inhuman smile. She wore, indeed, uncomfortable-looking stilettos – with long metal spikes as heels, he noticed, hence the clanking. A doctor's coat covered her spotless white dress. To make things ironic she wore a nurse's cap with a red cross. Dangling from her coat pocket was a silver State Alchemist watch. The seal of Amestris on the shiny metal glistened in the blaring light.

"Hello, Minerva," Roy forced out with as much calm as he could muster. "I see you haven't changed a bit."

"Nothing a little plastic surgery couldn't handle," she said. Then she shot him a menacing smile. "You know," she added, "because human transmutation is such a taboo."

The Flame Alchemist gave a cold, throaty laugh, just to humor her. Then he looked her in the eye. "Mind telling me why I'm here? And _why_ you're wearing that watch? I'm curious."

Minerva chuckled. "Oh, Roy," she sighed. "So straight-forward, as always. Well, have a little patience, dear. That first question will be answered soon. As for the other…" Her eyes lit up dangerously, making Roy want to retch. "I am a State Alchemist, of course: the Medic Alchemist."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Minerva," Mustang cut in, "but I believe they took away your rank as State Alchemist when you...how to put it? Started brutally murdering your patients. Shouldn't you still be locked up in a mental asylum?"

The former State Alchemist pouted. "Aw, don't be like that, Roy. The job was boring! All those reports and papers…you of all people should know what I'm talking about. I just wanted to have a little fun. Can't blame a girl for that, can you?"

"You can, actually, if her idea of fun is ending the lives of the people she is supposed to help."

"You're one to talk, Flame Alchemist," she spat. "Or have you forgotten Ishval?"

That hit a nerve. "That has _nothing_ to do with it, we're talking about—"

"Then again, you and I remember Ishval very differently," she continued, ignoring him.

"At least I feel the guilt of what I did, unlike you. If I remember correctly, you actually enjoyed murdering those innocent people! How_ could _you?!"

"Oh, come off it, Mustang. Don't avoid the subject." Minerva waved her hand irritably as she sighed tiredly. "But enough chat. Let's get down to business. We have something to discuss."

A moment of hesitation followed.

"Fine, then," Roy spat. "I'm guessing it's not going to be about releasing me?"

"No," Minerva confirmed. "I just need your cooperation, Roy. That's all." She stared at him with her serpent-like eyes. "I have a proposal for you."

"I'm listening," Roy said, mainly just to keep her talking.

She walked over to him and gripped his chin and jawline tightly between her fingers, her nails cutting into his skin. He could smell her breath; it smelled like blood. "I want to make a deal with you. Call it an equivalent exchange."

"Go on, then."

"Work with me, Roy," she said. "You're a remarkable Alchemist, skilled in his field of work. And outside of it, I heard," she added.

Mustang stared at her, willing her to stop changing the subject and get to the point.

"I want you on my team. We'll work together, explore Alchemy together. _We can find the secret to human transmutation_,Roy! We could master the impossible!" She looked him in the eye once more and gripped his jaw tightly. "Don't refuse my offer, Flame Alchemist. If you do, you'll simply become one of my experiments. Choose or lose." She released her grip on him and took a step back, never breaking eye contact. "Your move, Mustang."

He stared at her. How in the whole entire _world_ could she _expect_ him to _accept_?

He would have shaken his head, but he was still held in place by the metal brace. He took a slow breath and growled, "Never in your life, Minerva," with poisonous emphasis on each word.

She sighed. "In that case, experiment it is. To be honest, I expected that answer, so I have backup. Here. I need you to take this." She held up a small, circular pill that she had taken from her pocket. Nothing about it was alarming, except its shade of bright, bright red.

No..._blood_ red.

"If you think I'm going to take that, you're out of your mind," the Colonel spat. "Not like you weren't before. You've always been mental."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Roy," Minerva said. "Now take a chill-pill. Or, rather, this one." She held the red pill up again, along with a plastic cup of water. Where she had gotten that, the Colonel didn't know. Minerva Craig was full of surprises.

"Open wide!" she sang.

His mouth stayed firmly closed.

The woman seemed to fume for a second, before she took a deep breath and took out a white remote control out of her pocket. She pushed a black button on the remote, and immediately the metal brace around his head snapped back his neck with a painful _crunch_ and two metal claw-like things dug themselves into his mouth and forced it wide open. Minerva gave a satisfied look and put the pill in his mouth. Then she dumped the water unceremoniously onto his face, intending for him to drink it. The metal claws retracted and he sputtered, the water having caught him off-guard, and he had no choice but to swallow the pill.

"Good boy."

He shot a look at Minerva.

"Don't tell me you're scared, Roy-Boy—" He winced at his step-mother's nickname for him. How did Minerva know it? "—it won't hurt." She threw back her head and laughed. "Well, not you, anyway." She pushed another button on her remote and a part of the wall opposite Roy whizzed around, revealing the wall behind it, and with it, a particular subordinate of his. She was held up by metal chains on her wrists that were drilled into the wall, still wearing her military uniform. Her blond hair was hanging loosely over her shoulders, not tied up for once.

It was Riza Hawkeye.

Roy gasped. "Lieutenant!" he called, desperation in his voice. "Hawkeye, answer me!"

Like the loyal subordinate she was, she obeyed and began to stir.

"Colonel..." she muttered. Slowly she opened one eye, then the other. She took in her surroundigns and in a split second she was wide awake.

"Colonel Mustang, sir!"

"At ease, Lieutenant." He sighed, relieved.

"Sir, what happened?" She glanced at the Medic Alchemist. "Is that...?"

The Colonel nodded.

"I apologize, sir. I was attacked from behind. If I had—"

"It's not your fault, Lieutenant," he cut in, sighing. But he was glad she was all right.

Minerva walked over to Hawkeye and flashed her a devilish smile.

"Yes, this is Riza Hawkeye, your First Lieutenant, am I correct, Colonel?" she asked, though it sounded like more like a statement. "If I'm not mistaken, you grew up together in the Hawkeye Estate. Your father, Berthold Hawkeye, studied the Flame Alchemy that Mustang here now possesses. I've done my research on you two! And if I didn't know any better, I would've thought you two were in love. Ah, the bond you share! So beautiful, so tragic. Isn't this straight out of a drama?" She clapped her hands and sighed. "But enough of this. You must be wondering what you're here for. It's simple, really!" She dug in her pocket and produced a clear plastic packet of circular pills, much like the one Roy was forced to take, in seven different colors: yellow, blue, green, blue, orange, purple and, of course, red, all in sickly shades.

"These are pills I manufactured on my own. I started my project on them right after disposing of my doctors and escaping from the asylum where they kept me. I stole their identities and forged my own ID. Then I tricked a medicinal laboratory nearby into thinking I was a doctor coming to inspect the lab. Silly them, they believed me!" She smiled at the memory like it was a fond one. "I could have murdered them then and there, but that would raise even more suspicion. People were already looking for me _everywhere_! I felt so important and appreciated! I was a _star_!"

"I can assure you that wasn't the reason why they were looking for you," Mustang growled.

Minerva huffed. "Come now, Roy, don't be jealous! Anyway, these pills work quite simply. An Alchemist with a strong Alchemic energy such as yourself must first take a pill…"

Mustang interrupted, "What do you mean, 'Alchemic energy'?"

"Oh, Roy," she tutted. "It's merely an _expression_. Alchemy is a science, not a magic. You don't have Alchemic energy like you would have magical energy. No, 'Alchemic energy' is simply a term to describe an Alchemist's abilities. An Alchemist like you, someone who has seen the Truth, has a strong Alchemic energy. You can use Alchemy without a transmutation circle. I envy that. Unfortunately, I'd have to lose something to get it, and I'd rather keep my body whole." She laughed at her little joke.

Both Mustang and Hawkeye glared at the woman.

"Anyway, once an Alchemist takes a pill, their Alchemic energy is automatically concentrated on the pill, creating a type of Alchemy controlled by the pill, not the Alchemist. Each pill is designed to do a specific thing to a person who is affected by the pill's Alchemy. He or she takes a similar pill connected to the first. However, it's only based on theory and it's never been tested. Now, let's try it!"

The Colonel's heart fell as realization dawned over him. "Wait. You don't mean—"

Minerva giggled. "Oh, I do, Roy. Hawkeye here already took the Victim Pill, as I like to call it. And guess which one you just took!"

"No!"

"Yes," Minerva sang. She turned to the Lieutenant. "Hawkeye, you've been awfully quiet, haven't you? Now don't tell me the pill started working already! I haven't taken any notes!"

Indeed, Lieutenant Hawkeye was almost motionless, her eyes firmly shut, her body tense. But she uttered not a word.

"Craig!" Roy barked. He was panicking and it showed in his voice.

"_Doctor _Craig to you."

"_Shut up_! What does the pill do?"

"Which one, Roy-Boy?"

"_What! Does! It! Do!_"

"Oh, you mean the red ones?" Minerva asked. "They're my personal favorite. You see, they make the victim's internal organs bleed! They'll perish from the inside, and you won't be able to tell until it's too late! These were actually a pain to create, and I must admit I'm rather proud of them." She turned over one of the red pills in her hands and hazed at it. "These are the most complicated ones, though, so I hope they work. Oh, isn't this _exciting_?"

Roy's eyes widened. "No! You can't do this, you monster!"

"Yes, I can!" Minerva bellowed, her face twisted into a dark, devilish smile. "I can do anything!" Suddenly she was ranting about her past, completely ignoring the occasional moans of pain from Hawkeye that, in contrast, Mustang was focused on. "All my life nobody has appreciated my Alchemy. But this will prove them wrong! This will show them that I am the most powerful, the most intelligent Alchemist there ever was!" She erupted into a fit of maniacal laughter, throwing up her arms dramatically.

During the crazed Alchemist's laughing fit, Hawkeye's eyes found Roy's, with which is whispered a silent message: _Please hold on, Riza. I'll get you out of here. Hold on. Hold on…_

**Well, I feel evil.**

**Thanks for reading and please review. Not sure if I should continue this...**


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